Even Treasury Secretaries Can Make Mistakes
by chaoticTransmissions
Summary: In a moment of weakness, Alexander Hamilton sleeps with Thomas Jefferson. Things only go downhill from there.


Ever since Alex made the mistake of sleeping with Thomas Jefferson, Jefferson had been even more insufferable than usual. One moment of anger fueled passion after a particularly heated economic debate had led to possibly one of the worst decisions of Alex's life.

It had started small. Jefferson would send Alex barely perceptible leering glances as they passed one another in the hall. It was annoying, but easily ignored. Then Jefferson started finding all kinds of trivial matters to justify making frequent visits to Alex's office. While he was there, he'd stand far too close and make all kinds of thinly veiled innuendos that would leave Alex red faced and flustered by the time he finally kicked Jefferson out. On one such occasion, Jefferson had come into Alex's office to try and convince him to ignore party lines and vote for Jefferson's candidate in an upcoming Senate election. "Come on Hamilton," Jefferson began, looking around Hamilton's office critically and no doubt finding the decor lacking. "Don't be so stubborn."

Alex tore his gaze away from the halo of dark curls that always surrounded Jefferson's head, to meet his gaze. Jefferson's expression was a mixture of entreating and condemning, and the effect was only amplified by whatever crushed velvet monstrosity Jefferson had worn to work today. If politics didn't work out for Jefferson, he ought to try acting. He certainly had the theatrics down. "I am not being stubborn, I'm being practical." Alex argued obstinately. "Your candidate is too green. He's inexperienced and reckless, which is not what a new nation needs from its public servants."

Jefferson tsked, leaning up against Alex's desk insolently. When Alex tried to shoo him away, Jefferson just grinned and kept his perch there. "Don't mistake innovation for recklessness, Hamilton." Jefferson said. "Maturity comes with time. Competency, on the other hand, can't be learned." Recognizing the jab at his own party's candidate, Alex scowled. Before Alex could retort, however, Jefferson continued. "Besides, you were only 14 when you were placed in charge of your first trading charter, and you did quite well." Confronted with the unexpected praise and not wanting to analyze the warm feeling it spawned in him, Alex was left without reply. Realizing he had no retort, Alex decided to simply return to his work. The sooner he finished writing this proposal, the sooner he could get it passed and rub it in Jefferson's face. 'The dependent...' Alex began to write, stopping when Jefferson called his name. He did not look at the other man.

Alex heard Jefferson sigh as he realized he was being ignored, and was sure the Virginian was rolling his eyes. "Come now, Hamilton. Don't pout." Jefferson cooed. Alex's eyebrow twitched, but he gave no reply. 'The dependent...' Alex started again, then drew another blank, unable to concentrate with Jefferson looming over him. A moment later, a hand on his chin made Alex jump. He looked at Jefferson, startled, as the other man cradled Alex's face in his hand with surprising tenderness. "It's rude to ignore others when they are speaking to you." Jefferson admonished. There was something hungry in his gaze that sent shivers down Alex's spine. He couldn't move if he wanted to, whatever heat was between them seemed to pin them both in place.

Jefferson's hands on him brought Alex the rush of memories of their night together. He remembered heatedly tearing off Jefferson's clothes, their lips meeting in a rough, bruising show of passion. Alex had fought for dominance and lost in that kiss. Those same hands had pinned him, conquered him and took him apart into trembling pieces. Hands that had dipped teasingly low, lower, but not quite low enough as Alex begged for release. Alex remembered the moment Jefferson's cock was finally in him. He remembered his momentary lover growling and whispering dirty French endearments and promises into his ear. At least, Alex thought they were endearments and promises. Jefferson could have been reciting the alphabet for all Alex knew.

As if Jefferson could see what Alex was thinking, he began to smirk. The arrogant expression broke whatever spell had held the two of them, and Alex jerked away from Jefferson's hold. "I'm not voting for your candidate. Now get out, I'm busy." Alex gestured to the piles of paper on his desk as he spoke. They'd been disturbed by his violent jerk away from Jefferson. Jefferson put his hands up in surrender, and obligingly left the room with a smile on his face. He was whistling merrily all the way down the hallway.

One afternoon a few months later, a panel of about two dozen of Washington's advisers were gathered to discuss a policy change. Alex and Jefferson were both present, the later of which was currently prancing around the room giving a speech. He was wearing a suit the color of raspberry jam, a suit that no doubt cost more than all of Alex's clothing combined. The tension between them was about to boil over.

Alex was so busy glaring a hole in Jefferson's back, he almost didn't notice when the Secretary of State ended his speech and sat back down. There was a polite round of applause which Alex reluctantly participated in. He might not agree with Jefferson, but he had to admit that the man knew how to argue a point. "Any other opinions before we move on to a vote?" President Washington asked. Before Alex could even raise his hand, Washington said "Yes, Hamilton, you may speak your piece." Alex resisted the urge to blush. Was he really so predictable?

"Thank you sir. Now, before I begin, I'd like to remind you all of the guiding tenets by which we established our great na-"  
"Oh for God's sake, Hamilton. Some of us would like to get home before nightfall. Now be a good boy for Daddy, and vote yes already." Jefferson interrupted. His face was the picture of cool nonchalance but his eyes were full of mischief.

A ripple of shock went through the meeting hall, before the room fell dead silent. James Madison spit his drink clear across the table and began to cough so violently a page was nearly sent to fetch a doctor, out of fear for Madison's' health. Aaron Burr turned the color of the parchment on which he was writing, and promptly spilled a bottle of ink across all of his notes in his distraction. President Washington's eyebrows were so far above his hairline, they may as well have been in space.

Alex, shocked and at a complete loss for what to do, dropped like a rock into his chair. As the embarrassment of having two dozen sets of eyes turn on him took over, he sprung back up onto his feet again and began to stutter noiselessly. Jefferson looked at him and winked.

Lafayette and another nearby senator barely had time to restrain Alex as he tried to leap across the table and strangle Jefferson. Alex was going to fucking kill Thomas fucking Jefferson, and then they'd see which one of them was calling the other daddy.


End file.
